Bridges
by CrannberryCrane
Summary: Life after Jamie.
1. Morning

* * *

_"In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future."  
Alex Haley _

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* * *

_

"Landon?"

It's the sound of her voice that shatters my calm, and takes me from own world and back into hers. I am standing at the window, watching a bruised tulip bend its yellow head down towards the ground, the weight of the dew too much for its frail cups. I am silent, because it is morning, because I only have these few minutes each day to dream; to think; to remember.

And when the sound of my name rolls off her tongue and across her lips, I shatter.

My mind sways and falls away; I feel the ambers of my body melt and succumb to weakness and age. I am reminded of my own mortality, and in a mere second, I see the life I was given float through my mind. I am reminded of so much; too much.

I turn slowly, leaving one hand pressed to the window, and ready myself for another morning.

"Landon?"

My eyes whirl open, and I stand facing the apparition before me, my thoughts still on the flowers beyond the windowpane: Jamie loved tulips. Jamie… Jamie…

"Landon?"

She's a picture in gold, with the light streaming across her dark hair. The morning sun is still heavy with sleep, and it plays dimly across her cheekbones, her lips. She is brushing the sleepiness out of her eyes, and in her arms, she holds a ragged bear. I take my hand and run it through her hair. And suddenly, I feel the memories overtake me. I close my eyes and breathe in slowly.

"Are you alright, Landon?"

I try to smile, my eyes flickering open. I steady myself, and try to be stern.

"How many times have I told you to call me 'dad'?"

* * *


	2. Seventeen

* * *

Ava is seventeen today, and I am all of thirty-five. She's in her pajamas, and floating on a cloud this morning. I take a sip of coffee and watch her as she whirls about the room; buttering toast, pouring orange juice into a glass, tapping her fingers against the counter and smiling to herself. 

Seventeen years ago, this long limbed girl came into my life and stole my heart.

It happened just as the sun rose, filling the hospital room with an ethereal light that glowed in a prism about Jamie's head. I was so entranced in the moment, so in love with the little bundle that had just arrived, that I did not notice her slip away.

Jamie… Jamie…

She must have seen the look on my face; the love and the delight that no doubt played across my features in the early morning light. She must have given my hand a last squeeze; must have whispered a faint and soft goodbye. But I did not hear. I did not notice the moment when Jamie left the far corners of my heart, nor did I notice until much later just how much of my life I had given to Ava as soon as she wrapped her tiny fingers about my fingers; about my heart.

Ava sits down beside me, and I can't keep my smile to myself. She's lovely with her dark hair and hazel eyes, and there is something soft about her, despite the angular proportions of her body. She's always been a rowdy, happy child. Unlike her mother, she has never been one to sit silently. She's always in constant motion, and that has helped the pain ease over time. I've often yearned for a daughter more like the girl I married, but deep inside I know that a similarity between the two would hurt too much.

"Dinner at grandpa's?" she asks, taking a bite of toast while simultaneously moving the sugared donuts just out of my reach. I nod and grab a donut.

"Daaaaad!" she exclaims, "you know I made these for tonight! Lay off!" She swats my hands playfully and rises to go, brushing crumbs off her lap.

"Will you go straight from school or do you want to come with me?"

"To grandpa's?"

"Yes."

"Math club meeting today. I doubt we'll get out before five. I'll just drive myself over, okay?"

"Sure, honey. See you later."

She kisses my cheek and springs out of the house, leaving the house with the sensation that a cool wind has just passed through its doors and windows, leaving in its aftermath a slight, heady aroma of flowers and fresh air.

I'm due at the office at nine, so I still have some time to myself. Lindy, my receptionist and surrogate mother, will call me if there are any emergencies. As one of only two medical practices in all of Beaufort, I've come to understand that it's important to be available to your patients if you would like them to keep coming back. I check my pager, making sure I haven't missed any calls, and open the door to the kitchen pantry.

I hid Ava's birthday present here three days ago, and I have a strong suspicion that she may have already come across it. It doesn't really matter, however. Even if she had seen it, she would never have looked at it twice. It's only an old wooden box, covered in dust and hidden behind a number of vegetable cans and food boxes.

I slide the box out carefully; it's too heavy and too big to lift, and settle myself down on the floor beside it. I run my hands over the top, tracing the carved initials that have now been buried in almost seventeen years of dust:

_J. E. C._

I have so much to tell my daughter; there is so much I would like for her to understand. But I know that I cannot do it on my own; I need Jamie's hand to guide me.

"Jamie?" I whisper in the silence, watching the dust dance and finally settle in the glow of the morning. The sun is streaming in waves through the lone window, and I slowly lay my cheek agains the surface of the box.

I've talked to her often throughout the years, less so now than at first. My life has become full: I have my own practice, two rowdy dogs, a supportive family, and a little girl to raise. There have been times when I have gone for days without vivdly recalling Jamie's face: it's not that I have forgotten her, I could never do that. Not one day goes by without my thoughts lingering on some sweet aspect of our relationship. But the image of Jamie, the picture of her that I once guarded so closely in my mind, has slowly begun to vanish with time. I cannot recall the exact shade of her eyes anymore, or the light blush that I know always shone across her face. She's a thought, a memory, a lovely chapter of my life that has ended and shut. And yet she has continued on: she's Ava's smile, Ava's laugh...

"Jamie?" It's a plea now, and I take a deep breath. Seventeen years is a long time... far too long.

"Jamie, come back to me."

* * *


	3. Stars

* * *

The birthday song echoes in my mind, and I can't help but notice how much Ava has changed in these last few years. She bends over a piece of cake, a smile and a laugh spilling across her face; one hand reaching out to her grandmother, who is doubled over in laughter. I am lost as to what has just happened; Ava must have said something to make her laugh, but I have missed it. 

The deck is lit with dozens of candles, and Ava and Hegbert and my mother's faces are all lit up with the golden light. A firefly whisks about Ava's head, and as she lifts her eyes up to the sky, I am suddenly reminded of another night, another star-filled sky.

* * *

"_It's not exactly a house-of-dreams…" I whispered, coming up behind her. Jamie turned, catching my lips with her slim fingers. Her eyes shone in the dark, and I made an effort to smile back. I had so wanted to find a home for us; a perfect house with rosy shutters and a bower of flowers growing 'round about it. I had wanted a large front porch, complete with a swing and welcome mat. But instead I had to settle with a dilapidated bungalow; a white, peeling affair that needed a lot more work then I would ever be prepared for._

_Jamie let her fingers glide over my lips, across my cheeks, and back again to the center of my mouth. "No," she murmured, stroking my mouth. "It's beautiful Landon. I don't care where we live; just as long as it's you… and me, together." She smiled shyly and I let out a soft laugh, catching her up in my arms._

"_And anyway," she murmured, staring about the yard, "we could never have this much privacy anywhere in town. It's nice out here… look! Look at the stars!"_

_I lifted my eyes and smiled. _

"_Landon, look how clear the skies are out here… the air is so clean, and fresh; look, there's the Southern Cross!" She laughed, hugging her arms and stepping out of my embrace. I slipped an arm about her shoulders. _

"_I'll ask your father to bring the telescope tomorrow. We can set it up right on the little porch out back." _

_She smiled, nodding her head. I traced the outline of her face with a fingertip. She turned her head and surprised me with a soft kiss._

"_You're smiling funny," I whispered. She laughed; a soft lilting noise that ticked my ear._

"_It's because when I kiss you I see stars." She took a breath, a wave of emotions spilling across her face. "I love you so much, Landon--- so much…"_

_I closed my eyes and drew her closer. My fingers entangled themselves in her dark curls and the flimsy veil. With one hand she took my hand, entwining her fingers with mine. The veil was set loose, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw it blow free and settle upon the waiting fingers of a nearby tree._

_

* * *

_

"You know, it's taken me a few years to realize it, but I now understand that I actually like celebrating my birthday with you and grandpa and grandmother," Ava says in the dark. We are walking home from Hegbert's, having chosen to leave our cars at his house for the night. The air is cool, crisp, with hints of autumn just arounf the corner. Beside me Ava keeps on a running commentary, heedless of my silence. "I remember the time you made me invite all the girls from my ballet class. I hated that birthday party. And grandmother thought that it would be so wonderful if we all dressed up in our recital outfits."

I laugh, remembering. Ava had been so furious that halfway through the party she had stormed outside and jumped into a puddle. I can see her in my mind, that impish face, those impossibly long legs. And what a defiant expression!

"I remember that too. You were such a little spitfire. And I was so angry with you!"

Ava chortles and puts her arms through mine. We walk in silence, and I wonder about how I am going to give her her birthday present. On her wrist is the small tennis bracelet I have already given her, and I warrant that she's not expecting anything else.

"Landon?" She says in the dark, leaning her head against my shoulder. With a start, I realize how tall she is. I also realize how much it hurts when she doesn't call me 'dad'.

"Yes, hunny?"

"How come…" She stares off into a row of trees and begins to bite her lip, a nervous habit she must have picked up from my own mother. She breathes in slowly and smiles, then frowns to herself. She stops, and takes my hands into her own. I know what is coming, or what I believe is coming, and I wonder if I am ready. "…How come you never talk about my mother?"

I close my eyes. A slow sifting of emotions passes through me, leaving me with an empty, vulnerable feeling. I think of the box waiting for us at home; of all the letters stored away so neatly. I think of the promise I broke so long ago… and I wonder if Jamie will ever be able to forgive me.

* * *

"_Will you do something for me?" I had once asked her. She had smiled, wondering to herself if it was necessary to answer. _

"_Anything…"_

_The memory is a beautiful one, but also a painful one. I cradled Jamie's hand in my own, and wondered where she had gone. Where was my beautiful Jamie, and who was this thin girl staring back at me?_

"_Landon?" She whispered, her voice intense and filled with pain. "You have to promise me."_

_I stared down at her linked hands, then at her round stomach. I was angry with myself--- why had I let this happen to her? Why had I not listen to the doctor? Jamie's body was not prepared for a full-term pregnancy… and yet there she lay, so close to leaving me._

"_I know what you're thinking, Landon Carter. I know you too well." She closed her eyes; "I know you like the back of my hand." With what little strength she had left she brought my hand up and kissed it. "…So don't go berating yourself on my sake; don't you dare. This was as much of my choice as it was yours… more so."_

_Can a person cry without realizing it? Can tears be shed without feeling them?_

_I watched my tears fall down upon her face, her neck, her open hand. Tears from heaven, I thought numbly to myself. I had been so strong all along, but with each passing minute I felt that strength ebb away._

"_Landon… promise?"_

_What else could I do, or say?_

"_I promise."_

_---_


	4. Promise

---

When I was all of eighteen, I promised the girl that I loved that I would love, cherish, and honor her.

I did not break my promise.

When I was nineteen, I promised her that I would love the child we were expecting, no matter what happened.

This promise too, I did not break.

I also promised her that I would let her live on in our child's memory; I would let our child read a letter that she had written for every birthday, every childhood accomplishment, every woe.

I broke that promise.

-----

We sit down on the front steps, and Ava bends over and begins to play with her shoelace. She is waiting for me to speak, but I am silent, watching her in the moonlight.

Without a word, I stand up and go into the house to retrieve the box. Ava is still sitting when I return, and does not move when I sit down beside her once more.

"What's this?" She asks softly, brushing a finger over a corner of the box.

"This…"

I am at a loss for words. Where do I start? I would like to skip through this and fast-forward to the part where Ava looks up at me with joy filled eyes. And yet I know very well that the joy might also bring pain; anger.

"J. E.C," Ava reads softly, "Jamie's initials."

"She would have liked you to call her Mama, I think. Or Mom, even."

Ava looks up, her eyes cool in the blue and white of the moon overhead. "How could I call a woman I never knew 'Mom'?"

"Ava, don't be difficult…"

Her eyes flash and she raises her chin defiantly. She is silent for a moment, then turns her attention back to the box. "What is this?"

"It belonged to your mother. To Jamie." I clear my throat and slide the box into her lap. "She wanted you to have it."

Ava's features soften, and I watch her fingers hungrily descend upon the box. The anger has begun to melt away.

"Why now; tonight?" She whispers; in that soft voice, I hear an apology.

Guilt strums the corners of my heart. I look up at the moon, the stars; anywhere but at Ava.

"There's a letter from me inside. I hope it will explain everything," I say, getting up. A sense of shame overflows through me: I have taken the easy way out; I have let a letter do the talking for me.

I stoop down and kiss Ava's head.

"Goodnight."

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"_What are you doing?" I asked as I came into our little bedroom, just recently painted a muted shade of sky-blue. Jamie sat propped up in bed, a pen in hand and a tray overflowing with loose papers placed precariously on her lap._

"_I'm writing a letter," she said with a smile, not looking up._

"_To?"_

"_Someone special."_

"_Does someone special have a name?"_

"_Perhaps." _

_I smiled. "Would that someone's special have an 'L' in their first name?"_

_She looked up. "No." A dreamy look crossed her face, and I bent to move a strand of dark hair from her face. "It's for the baby, Landon."_

_I must have looked confused, because she patted the spot beside her and reached up to take my hand._

"_Landon, I'm writing incase I don't…" She frowned into her hands. "…Incase I am not there for all of the things our parents experienced in raising us." She looked up, her eyes suddenly red._

_For a moment, I did not know what to say. My emotions jumped and settled on one that I knew was not right: anger._

"_That's morbid," I finally said through clenched teeth._

"_It's life, Carter," Jamie retorted, evidently unimpressed with my attitude. "Deal with it. People die."_

_And suddenly, I felt something black and painful settle in my chest. I kneeled down by the bed and grabbed at her wrists. A thousand thoughts came to mind, none of them eloquent enough for words.  
_

"_You're not 'people,' Jamie," I whispered hoarsely, "You're Jamie Elizabeth Carter. You're my wife, my lover…"_

"_Landon—"_

"_You're my best friend…"_

_She buried her face in the nape of my neck and sighed. "I love you Landon… but I can't live knowing that you can't accept things for what they are. I need you to understand me, okay?"_

_She spoke to me as if I were a child. I crawled up into the bed and settled in beside her. The sun had begun to set, and now played in hues of orange and burnt amber across the foot of the bed.  
_

"_I want you to be happy…" I murmured._

_She smiled; a thin veil of a smile that did not hide her own fear, her own lack of understanding._

"_I'm happy when I'm with you."_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

Alone in my room, I turn to face the windows, and look out over the bay. Boats rock gently in the breeze, and the moon has created a silver path from the horizon to the shore. Jamie would have loved a night like this.

A noise makes its way to my ears; through the open window, or perhaps the crack beneath the door? I step closer to the door, and recognize an unmistakable sound that I have previously never heard in my own house:

That of my daughter crying herself to sleep.

---


End file.
